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Débridement. The removal of devitalized, damaged, or infected tissue to improve the healing potential of the remaining healthy tissue. A medical/surgical terminology.

That word kept playing on my mind as I sat by the window on the eve of Easter, almost lost in thought as I set about mentally shortlisting the things that I wanted to have happen in my life. Somehow the clinical sound of that word that I uttered as I blankedly scribbled it on the corners of my pad once, twice, and then thrice, snapped me back to the present dimension. “Odd,” I thought. I had wrapped up the medical transcription job for the day a few hours earlier and had totally abandoned all thought related to work. I do not recall ever hearing or typing that word earlier today. So why is “Débridement” repetitively playing in my head like a last song syndrome?

Débridement. I thought about the procedure in its potentially gruesome detail. I had witnessed it a number of times when my late mother was confined on several occasions for diabetic complications. My mother, the most chicken-hearted person I had ever met in my entire life, feared pain and discomfort, although these two became her constant companions during the last two decades of her life. She had learned to live with them, embracing them as part of her reality. And so with all the courage she could muster, she even tolerated débridement sans anesthesia quite well. It was essential, the doctors would patiently explain to us. It would speed up the healing process. The tissues were dead anyway and would cause more harm when left in there. Best to take them out so the wound could heal properly.

My thoughts turned to my life, wondering if “Débridement” that is now playing like a mantra in my mind has any significance in my life—my NOW. Certainly, I could claim that I am at the prime of my life. I am happy with my relationship with family and friends. I love my career, and I definitely enjoy and value my independence. On the surface, my life is as calm and beautiful as a peaceful, sun-kissed lake. Yet, I wonder if I was merely putting on a happy face—a perfect profile, when in fact a lot of “devitalized tissues” are begging to be removed from my life. It could be anything that weighs me down and gives me a sense of uncertainty despite my flamboyant airs—sins of omission and commission, past hurts and emotional baggages, frustrations caused by missions unaccomplished, perhaps even memories of past and fading glories that I still want to bask in out of sheer narcissism.

If I were to be completely honest now, I would say that I am indeed fooling myself by thinking that I am in a perfect state. That is impossible! No person is perfect. Not on this earth. I know, and I FEEL that there is much that need to be debrided from my life. I do have my own ghosts from the past. There were past mistakes and sins that I can’t seem to shake off my mind. I have my share of past hurts and emotional baggages—lots of them. And, yes, I still want to bask in my past glories. Such egotism despite the failings and the sins. Shame on me! Many times I simply turned a deaf ear to that one small voice of God within, distracted by the enthralling sounds of the world. Surely, even my spiritual ears need a good débridement!

This is Easter, the season of New Life. Resurrection. Rebirth. Let my prayer be: “Lord, I am a sinner. I am imperfect. I have refused to surrender my life’s baggages completely to You and have refused to heal. Debride my life. Debride my soul and that I may be whole. Teach me to let go of the past and let me live my life NOW in accordance with Your will. Open my mind and heart so that I may fully embrace the love, life and salvation that You have given fully and freely. Let me accept these wondrous gifts with a contrite heart. Make me worthy of your gifts. Right this moment, debride me, Lord”